


Dusty Cradles

by daisybrien



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alphynecentric, Angst, Crying, Death, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Family, Family Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Infant Death, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Post-Pacifist Route, Post-Series, Stillbirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5879152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisybrien/pseuds/daisybrien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one deserved this crushing loss. It was the cause of the cruelty of the world that had found them through simple happenstance. It was their ignorance in their own, short-lived happiness that made them think something so horrible could never happen to them. </p><p>But it did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dusty Cradles

**Author's Note:**

> In case you skipped over the tags, this work is going to contain some mature and/or triggering themes such as infant death and stillbirth. Read at your own discretion.
> 
> Inspired by this: http://flowerats.tumblr.com/post/138186456374/ever-since-they-began-considering-it-undyne

The first years sharing a society with humans had left Alphys awestruck, so many new things to discover that it would be impossible to explore them all, the curiosity of her logical mind leaving her in giddy joy as she gobbled up all the knowledge she could. She had spent months scanning academic libraries, gaining knowledge and building onto it with her own, slowly wiggling her way into this new scientific community, gruelingly earning her way into respect and relevance. She plowed through the throngs of social media, thousands of millions of new pieces of media to explore, hours spent curled up against Undyne’s chest catching up on decades worth of humanity’s classics and recent booming media. Everything was new, so bright and colourful that it was dizzying, left her scrambling for breath as the two of them spun each other around under the soothing warmth of the sun and over the tickle of dewy grass underneath their feet, inspiring enough to be followed soon by rings and a bed together, and even the possibility of a small and perfect little family of their own.

Life was supposed to be perfect.

When they both realized that they were going to have a baby, Alphys plunged back into the depths of every book and website she could find, hungry for more knowledge. Most of the sites she did come across never addressed monsters themselves, but the information entices her nonetheless; she can’t help but be fascinated by the functions of the human body. She found herself in dozens of online parenting communities, with humans just as excited to learn of Undyne’s experience as she was of theirs, sharing the similarities and the drastic differences. She’s searched through countless articles, scrolled through poems and diary entries on blogs of parents of every possible experience that filled her with a buzzing, thrumming anxiety of the best kind that only helped her thrive on the excitement for the baby’s arrival.

One tiny blurb sticks out in her mind now as she inches her way into the room, cringing at the solemn, low creak of the door as she hobbles her way slowly through the darkness. The bright light of her laptop screen sears in her mind now, letters glaring against the dark of midnight as she scrolls through archives that are almost addicting; the tiny drabble had made her heart sink, throat close up, and for a minute she forgets that the human on the other side of the screen mentioning their dusty crib is only a lament for it not being used in the absence of their infant, not a description of a crumbling, destructive death of a monster gone prematurely. She had voiced this, alongside sincere condolences, the screen blurring behind unshed tears as fears ran through her head, spending the night sleepless even as the human reassured them – even through their own pain – that they would have a perfect baby.

They would have been a perfect baby.

The bright sunlight of the summer is stifled by the closed curtains, what does drift between the gaps of them nothing more than an eyesore as it casts severe lines of light across the floor. There is no joy at its sight, no want to cherish it; they are taking this formerly new world for granted now, pulling the drapes over the sun’s warmth, closing the windows against the changing, clean breezes of air that they once loved with such wonder. Instead they spend the dawn of the new day swallowed up in the darkness of their house, the sickening, toxic smell of pale yellow paint still drying on the walls filling their aching, sobbing lungs. In any other scenario, many monsters would lecture them of their carelessness, their apathy to a future they had wanted for so long, but those who do learn the news only respond with feeble condolences. How could they find even just a shred of happiness from a world that had ripped their biggest joy from their hands all too soon?

Undyne does not move from her spot at the creak of the door or the whine of the floorboards under Alphys’ feet, only stands in the same spot of that hot, stuffy room. Her bathrobe hangs from her hunched frame limply, the wisps of red hair that fly loosely from her messy, greasy bun glowing gold against the light that does manage to filter in, shining like a halo around her head. She doesn’t look much like an angel though, more like a ghost, a shadow of her former self wandering the halls of their quiet house in a futile attempt to find peace after an unfair death. 

Alphys creeps forward, a hand running over the tacky dampness of the walls, the solid oak of sturdy furniture lining the walls, plush with pastel bedding and blankets painstakingly knitted with so much care. The carpet is warm under her feet, yet barely enough to ward off the chill of the room as it sinks deep into her bones, freezes her breath in her throat in a choking sob that she swallows down painfully, burning like ice behind her tearful eyes.

Undyne’s back is a wall to her, tall and unmoving. She approaches it slowly, afraid to try and breach it for fear she won’t be able to make her way past it, an army dying at the whims of an immovable force despite her efforts to do as much good, to make as much right as she can even when everything had seemed to wrong and twisted in the first place. One hand reaches out feebly, palm pressing against the small of Undyne’s back, slowly drifting up and down the length of her spine in soothing circles.

There is a slight give in her stiff muscles, her body seeming to deflate, rigidity lost. It seems to flood up into her shoulders and down into her arms, the muscles there bulging against the force of her grip, knuckles white as they clench against the wooden rails of the small bassinet in front of her. 

Alphys takes the change as a welcoming response, if not a good or happy one, stepping forward with her chest pressed against Undyne’s back. Her pudgy arms wind their way tenderly around Undyne’s waist, careful not to press against her too hard and accidentally aggravate the tender soreness settled into the muscles of her hips. Her fingers splay against the foreign softness of her stomach, leaning her forehead in the space between her shoulder blades.

Undyne’s body seems to heave in her arms, a sob choking out of her ragged throat in what almost sounds like a retch as her body rocks forward, crumbling under such tender touch. Her body is thick and heavy in Alphys’ arms, yet she tries to handle it as if holding glass that is already shattering in her grip, the towering illusion of physical strength in her stature dissipating. She knows it too; Alphys can feel it in the way she tries to move forward out of her embrace, the way her head hangs low and her face contorts, eyes squeezed shut and lips pressed together, barely suppressing the whimper that rises from her throat. 

There is nothing more Alphys wants to do than to tighten her grip, press kisses and whisper sweet nothings into the curvature of her back and reassure her of the unbounded strength that she has. She would not be lying; her heart aches with not just mourning, but with love and pride at how the wonderful woman in her arms is still upright after such an ordeal, with sadness over the knowledge that now both of them are slipping into that same depression together, leaving nothing more than motionless and mind rotting void. There is so much that she wants to preach and wail about it to her with enough force to snap the two of them out of their mournful reverie and rebuild. Yet her mind is too muddled and slow to form a coherent thought for it, body lethargic in its shock that she cannot bring the words to fruition in her throat and out her mouth. In her own desolation, the only thing she can muster is a soft, whining wail, and tears that stain the back of Undyne’s pajamas. She hopes it’s enough to get everything she wants to say across.

One hand releases its grip on the rails of the crib, shooting towards Alphys’ hand. Undyne’s palm covers her knuckles, clamping their hands against her stomach. They intertwine their fingers, tendons taut under their skin like wires, red and flushed with the force of their grips. They cling like each is the other’s lifeline.

“Where did we go wrong?” Undyne asks desperately, her voice warbling off against her tears. Her body sinks further into itself, the few loose strands of dirty hair that escape from her hair tie falling in front of her face, sticking to the sheen of sweat on her forehead like fierce red scars of lighting against a blue, stormy sky. Her sob is not heavy in its loudness – rather, it comes out only as a soft, weeping cough, pathetically breaking through the air – but in how it wracks her frame, her whole body pitching forward with the force of it. Alphys peeks past her side through her own welling eyes, watching as a teardrop falls into the bassinet, shining brightly against the darkness with what feeble reflection of light it can muster before she hears it plop against the mattress of the crib, a muffled, defeated thud indication of it marking its place against the cushions. It sinks into the fabric, a tiny dot of a stain where their baby should be, healthy and alive.

“What did we do wrong?” she wails, her cries small, weak voice grating against her sore throat as she repeats the words like a mantra. This was what made it so incredibly unfair, what left Alphys unable to answer her; they had done everything right, had made up the house ready for the new arrival, had put so much unending love into every little bit of everything they had done to painstakingly prepare. They had done nothing to deserve this. No one ever deserved this; not them, not Undyne who had cooed and laughed to her growing belly every day, who had labored herself to the brink of exhaustion in Alphys’ arms with tears and sweat dripping down her face, who still cradled their baby for the few minutes they had them before they turned to dust against her skin from a weak and failing body born too early; not the mother that Alphys had talked to that night, almost hearing her choked voice and feeble strain of a smile from the searing brightness and low, throaty hum of her computer monitor; not anyone. 

No one deserved this crushing loss. It was the cause of the cruelty of the world that had found them through simple happenstance. It was their ignorance in their own, short-lived happiness that made them think something so horrible could never happen to them. 

But it did.

Because life isn’t perfect.

“Undyne.” Alphys is just able to murmur her name; it is a small attempt to get her out of her trance. It just works, Undyne lifting her head to stare blankly at the wall ahead of her, the fins at her temples standing erect at her newfound attention. 

“Undyne,” she repeats. “P-please, d-don’t do this to yourself.” Her arms squeeze gently around her, slowly pulling backwards. It pains her to move away from the cradle in front of them, to so brutally pull Undyne away from the few scraps of their child that they can still hang on to, but she can’t bear to watch her spiral. She can’t let her sink into that same hole she has found herself in so many times, can’t let her stare at that pile of dust at the bottom of the crib – there was no where else they could put it; where were they supposed to sprinkle their dust if they hadn’t lived long enough to make their mark on anything more than their mothers’ aching hearts? – let herself mourn until mourning turned to anger, anger turned to loathing, loathing turned into a dim throb of nothingness in the pit of her stomach. Alphys knows the cycle. Even if she finds she can’t keep herself out of it this time, she isn’t going to let someone else fall into it with her. 

Undyne sobs, her breath hitching in her throat. “I can’t.”

“P-please,” Alphys begs quietly. She presses her mouth against Undyne’s back, whispering her desperate words into her shirt, lips pursed in kisses between them. “Please, g-go outside, j-ust for a bit, I’m here, I’ll b-b-be right here.”

Undyne’s grip on the rails grows slack, her hand lying on it limply before slipping off, flopping to her side. Her head falls back, her weeping face raised up to sky as she lets out a quiet, forlorn wail. She hugs herself, wrapping her own arms alongside Alphys’, slowly swaying as Alphys mutters sweet nothings to the both of them, unintelligible as she muffles it in Undyne’s back.

“I love you,” Alphys says. She can think of nothing else to say, nothing else that might help. She has nothing else but that to rely on if she is going to help give the two of them the chance to heal.

Undyne squeezes Alphys’ hands in hers, a wordless reply of her own. Alphys shushes her before she can say anything more; she knows that she loves her, has known and cherishes it. She doesn’t want to risk Undyne muttering off soft apologies, as if it were her own fault, as if she could have done anything to keep this from happening. There is no time to lay unwarranted blame on anyone; it would only be an obstacle to recovering from the loss.

She nudges Undyne again, and this time she gives into her gentle insistence, her feet moving from their spot planted against the carpet. Alphys’ heart swells in her chest, feeling Undyne accept what little comfort she can offer. She leads the two of them backwards for a while, almost startled to hear the faintest snort of laughter as Undyne trips over her feet before the two right themselves, walking properly out of the room.

It takes a second for Undyne to actually step out of the room, squinting as she steps into the relative light of the hallway. Alphys keeps a hand to her back, holding her trembling body steady as she musters her way down the corridor, arms wrapped around herself. She takes one last peek through the door into the nursery, sucking in a heavy breath before solemnly turning away, managing a smile that just barely reached her red rimmed, swollen eyes. Alphys hates pushing her away, but at least the rest of the house is just a bit brighter, her feet just a little bit lighter as she leads Undyne into the living room to do nothing but muse the same things without such stark reminders in front of them. They are still not ready to get back into routine just yet; they want to acknowledge that something really has changed, that someone new and beautiful was here, if only for a little bit.

Alphys pushes the door of the nursery closed with quiet, trembling hands, the click of it in the doorframe echoing in her head like a firm finality as she scurries after Undyne, silently wondering if they’ll ever get the chance to look into that room with hope for a family again.


End file.
